


Sweet Dreams

by rory_the_faery



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dark, Dark Romance, Dark fic, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Pregnancy, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:04:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1424497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rory_the_faery/pseuds/rory_the_faery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It had started with her being bored, and, well, Jim was interesting.  Cases weren't enough any more. Once she'd deduced that Moriarty was alive, she couldn't resist trying to get in contact with him.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>  <em>She looked at him. The offer was tempting, she had to admit. Unimaginable amounts of money, power, and mental games to keep her from ever being bored again.</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>"You want to use me to get at Sherlock."</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>"You'd let me."  Oh, and she would too.</em></p><p> </p><p>Really dark, romance fic.  Victoria/Moriarty.  Gets more dark and interesting as the chapters go on.  Hope you all like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Some of Them Want to Use You

~

_I have something for you. Come and play, Tori. JM_

Victoria glanced down at the text, acting as though it was nothing because her fathers were in the room. This wasn't the first text message she'd gotten from him. They'd been in touch for a few weeks. It had started with her being bored, and, well, Jim was interesting. Of course, her parents weren't even aware that Jim was still alive, so finding out that their seventeen-year-old daughter was texting him would no doubt come as a shock. Her phone chimed again.

_And don't bring your parents. Bothersome things...they only get in the way. JM_

' _In the way of what, exactly? VWH_ ' she replied, though she knew he wouldn't say.

_Come find out. JM_

Victoria pocketed her phone and stood up, running a hand through her curly, dark brown hair.

"I'm gonna head out. Lizzie wants to go to the mall," she lied. It was a poor lie; they could text Mycroft at any time of the day and find out that Victoria and her cousin were not, in fact, at the mall together. However, they usually trusted her, and even if she did get found out, she would have enough time to come up with another lie between now and then.

Sherlock didn't look up from the photographs and maps he had hung on the wall, but gave a slight noise of approval and John glanced up at her from his laptop.

"Alright. Text us when you're coming back or if you want to spend the night at Elizabeth's," he said. Victoria nodded, smiling and pulling on her combat boots and trenchcoat before heading downstairs. Glancing over her shoulder quickly, she opened the drawer downstairs where John kept his gun, made sure it was loaded, and tucked it into her coat.

_Where should I meet you? VWH_

_Let's be sentimental. How about the pool? JM_

Victoria got into a cab and told the driver where to go.

_Be there in ten minutes. VWH_

She put her phone in her pocket and leaned back in the seat, glancing out the window. The plan was riddled with holes, and Sherlock and John would almost definitely find out. But she would be eighteen in a week, and really, what could they do? It wasn't like she was off doing heroin or killing people, though she supposed that meeting with the most powerful and dangerous criminal in the world might be close in severity.

After paying the cabbie, she walked up to the building, a bit hesitant to go in. They hadn't met in person before; she'd only seen him in court when he'd attempted to steal the crown jewels, and that'd been years ago. Giving herself a moment to collect herself, she walked inside, hand on the gun tucked into her coat. The room seemed empty, but then a figure stepped out of the shadows.

"You brought a gun? I must admit, my feelings are a bit hurt," he said.

"Just being cautious," she murmured. Victoria let go of the gun, leaving it in her coat. "To what do I owe the pleasure of finally meeting you in person?"

"It's been nearly four years since I've seen your face," he said. "Am I not allowed a bit of curiosity as to what you look like? Quite beautiful, if I might add."

"Flattery doesn't suit you; you should stick to psychopathy."

Jim chuckled, and Victoria smiled faintly. "Could say the same about you," he said.

Victoria arched an eyebrow. "I prefer sociopath," she said.

"Call it what you like."

She stepped towards him, tilting her head. "So really...why am I here?"

Jim looked back at her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Because you're bored," he said. "And I want to fix that."

Victoria nodded slightly. He wasn't wrong; she had been very bored the past few months. Cases weren't enough any more. Once she'd deduced that Moriarty was alive, she couldn't resist trying to get in contact with him.

"Okay. I'm listening," she said.

"What do you think of helping me run the criminal web?"

A bit blunt, but then again she supposed there was no point in beating around the brush for either of them, granted their intelligence.

"Why me? You've got a sixteen-year-old son." she asked.

"Unfortunately, he's inherited Sebastian's IQ, which is quite low."

She nodded. "I take it you don't have the best relationship with them," she said, and then paused. "You and Sebastian are split up," she deduced. "But he still works for you." Interesting.

"I believe you're straying a bit from the point," he said.

"You want me to run a portion of your web. Why? Can't you do it yourself?"

"Certainly. I simply thought you could use the mental exercise."

Victoria arched an eyebrow at him. "Why me?" She looked at him. The offer was tempting, she had to admit. Unimaginable amounts of money, power, and mental games to keep her from ever being bored again. 

"You want to use me to get at Sherlock."

"You'd let me."

"That depends on if you're going to dump me off once you've gotten what you want."

Jim looked at her and smiled. She was considering this. He'd known he hadn't been wrong. "You and I are just alike," he murmured.

"Mm...I wouldn't say that," she said. "Unless you also happen to be the daughter of an emotionally dysfunctional, heroin-addicted detective and an army doctor with the most bizarre form of PTSD his psychologist has ever seen, and the niece of a Machiavellian puppet master who controls England and most of Europe." She paused. "In that case, I suppose we would be just alike."

Moriarty smiled and stepped towards her. "You're icy cold inside, aren't you, little snake?" he murmured.

"So I've been told."

She didn't move as he walked up to her and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "You are a beautiful, power-hungry little sociopath," he murmured affectionately and kissed her cheekbone. She didn't move, breathing in the faint scent of his cologne as he came close to her.

Victoria looked at him as he pulled away, her phone vibrating in her pocket. That would be Elizabeth asking where she was. And again. Another text. Mycroft. And a third time. Sherlock. She sighed, faintly irritated at the interruption.

"Think it over," whispered Moriarty as he started to walk away. "I'll be in touch."

Victoria watched him go, cursing as her phone went off again. That'd be Sherlock again. She racked her mind for an excuse and sighed faintly. She could probably find someone to sell her drugs. That would get her grounded, definitely, but it would be much better than if they found out she'd met up with James Moriarty.

She managed to find someone who would sell her some cocaine; an alarming number of dealers insisted she should pay them with a blowjob, which she was not willing to do. She needed a cover, but not that badly. She snorted a bit before she went back to the flat (it had to be believable) and then took a cab to Baker Street, taking a moment to slip into character before she went in.

"Where the hell were you?" asked John immediately as she entered the flat.

"I was...out," she mumbled, turning away like she wanted to go upstairs.

"Tori," said Sherlock, much calmer than John. "We were worried about you. Where were you?" he asked, as Victoria could see his eyes scanning over her, picking up all the things she wanted him to. "Have you been doing coke?" he suddenly asked.

Victoria saw John's jaw drop in surprise, and she looked at Sherlock incredulously. "No," she responded, making it an obvious, but not too obvious lie.

"Don't lie, yes you have!" said Sherlock. He raked a hand through his hair to calm himself for a moment. "Tori, we've talked about this. You of all people should know how bad drugs are!"

Victoria sighed exasperatedly. "I'm _not_ doing coke!" she said.

"Turn out your pockets then."

Victoria looked at him for a moment and then begrudgingly pulled out the small amount of cocaine she'd bought.

"Tori!" scolded John. Sherlock bit down on his lip, obviously the drug was presenting a bit of a problem for him. "I can't believe -- go to your room!" he shouted. Victoria turned obligingly and dragged her feet up the stairs to her room. Once she closed the door, her sulk turned into a grin. It had worked! She was always very pleased with herself when she managed to lie to her parents. It was quite a feat considering Sherlock was who he was.

Flopping lazily onto her bed, she figured being grounded wouldn't be much of a bother anyway. Her room had a balcony with a staircase, so sneaking out was easy. She raked her hands through her long, curly, dark hair, thinking over Jim's offer, unable to shake the feeling she'd gotten in her spine when he'd kissed her on the cheek. She shivered just at the thought of it.

It was then Victoria knew she'd never be able to turn down Jim's offer.

~


	2. Who Am I to Disagree?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't like to keep you all waiting so long, so I didn't get this chapter beta'd, so I apologise for any errors. If you spot any major errors, let me know in the comments and I will correct them. Thanks!

_Victoria moaned loudly, gripping the sheets as an intense rush of pleasure came over her. His tongue pushed into her. His hands roamed along the insides of her thighs as he pulled his tongue over her clit and started sucking. She gasped, throwing her head back and_

Victoria woke with a jolt, and a vague sense of disappointment washed over her as she realised it had been a dream.

Picking her phone up from the nightside table, she sent a text. 

_The pool. One hour. VWH_

She grabbed her coat of the floor; it still had the gun in it from earlier that day. She checked the clock. 3:30. Sherlock and John would be asleep, but best leave through the window, just to be on the safe side.

She made it to the pool without a hitch, and Jim was already waiting for her, leaning casually against the wall, mobile phone twirling absently in his left hand.

"Victoria," he said, smiling at her as he straightened up and pocketed his phone. "Here to accept my offer?"

Victoria looked at him for a moment. There was no way she could say no. She got shivers just being face-to-face with him like this. _Imagine..._

She shook the thought away, forcing herself back in the room with Jim, bringing her focus back to what was currently happening. "Yes," she said.

Jim smirked at her. "Come on, then. Come with me."

"I haven't packed."

"You don't have to move in just yet," he murmured, stepping closer to her. His right hand came to cup the back of her head while his left rested on the small of her back. The shift in control left Victoria speechless as another small shiver ran down her spine. "I just thought you might like to stay the night."

Victoria was unable to do anything but nod her head, lost in his dark eyes as they stared back into her blue ones. He was slightly taller than her; the girl had inherited Sherlock's slight frame along with John's height, which had led to a very petite, small form.

Soon they were back at Jim's place, a glamorous penthouse, giving her just a taste of the fabulous riches to come. Her shirt was unbuttoned and Jim's belt undone, and he shoved her down onto the bed, kissing and biting her neck.

"Do you....do you have a condom?" she murmured, breathing heavily as his hands roamed up her sides.

"No. It's fine," he said, face still buried in her neck.

Victoria shifted slightly underneath him. "I'm not on birth control," she said.

"I told you, it's fine," he murmured. He pushed his hand under her bra and cupped her breast in his hand, kissing and sucking on her collarbones. Victoria moaned softly as he rubbed his thumb over her nipple, moving down to suck her breast. Soon her shirt, along with the rest of her clothes, were cast onto the floor, and so were Jim's. She reached down to stroke him while he kissed and sucked at her neck, feeling him moan against her throat as she touched him.

He hummed into her neck before moving up to whisper in her ear. "May I fuck you?" he purred, sending a shiver up her spine.

"Mm..you haven't even bought me dinner yet," she murmured, chuckling softly. He smiled and kissed her sharp cheekbones she'd inherited from Sherlock.

"We can have dinner after," he murmured. "How does lobster sound? And champagne?"

Victoria smiled and leaned up to kiss him. "I suppose, just this once," she said softly, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth which made Jim let out another soft moan.

Jim pushed himself up off of her, smiling at the way she looked underneath him, dark smokey eyes looking up at him with her long, curly hair splayed out across the white satin sheets. He thought he'd never seen someone look so disshelved and so beautiful at the same time. He positioned himself over her entrance and slowly pushed in, eyes fluttering closed as he heard her exhale a soft moan underneath him. He pulled out most of the way and pushed back in, eventually settling into a rhythm as he leaned down and started to kiss her neck.

Victoria wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her lips to kiss her. He was amazing..gentle and intense at the same time, dominating but affectionate. She kissed him and he kissed her. Her lips, her sharp cheekbones, her neck, bit and sucked at her collarbones. He started to speed up, feeling his orgasm ebbing closer, but didn't want to leave her unsatisfied either, so he began to rub her clit with his thumb and index finger.

The wave of pleasure jolted up through Victoria's whole body and she dug her nails into his back as he both increased the speed of his thrusts and started touching her.

"James..ah.." she moaned and he thrust even harder as she said his name.

"Victoria...Christ you're so..uhnnn.." Jim bent down and buried his face in her shoulder as he came, pushed deep inside of her. Victoria was still panting heavily and Jim wasted no time in pulling out and moving down between her legs with his face.

Victoria gripped the sheets with a loud groan as he started to lap up his cum from her cunt and trailed his tongue up to suck on her clit. It only took a few minutes for her to let out a loud cry of his name as he hips spasmed and then fall still. Jim crawled up beside her, lazily kissing her with the taste of his cum and her wetness still on his tongue.

He ran his hand through her dark halo of curls and smiled at her. "Dinner?" he murmured softly and Victoria smiled.


	3. You're a Criminal as Long as You're Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh! Sorry I took so long to post this chapter, I promise next update will not take that long! I had it all written up, but then I've been crazy busy so I didn't have time to have it beta'd and read over it and post it, etc. Hope you like it~

Victoria went home that night at around three in the morning and crawled into her bed, her disappearance apparently having gone completely unnoticed by both her fathers. She slept late and by the time she woke, her parents were gone, leaving a note on the fridge that read simply: _Case._

Case meant they didn't know when they'd be back, but usually it was a safe bet that they wouldn't be back until late that night.

Victoria rubbed her eyes and yawned, running a hand through her mess of dark curls. For a moment, she thought it had been a dream, what had happened last night. But the faint ache in her bones and the weakness in her thighs told her it had been real, very real and so good. She stretched and noticed a dark spot on her hipbone where her shirt rode up. She pulled her shirt up and looked at it to find words scrawled onto her skin with sharpie.

_Until next time. xx_

She smiled and pushed her shirt back down, spine tingling at the thought of there being a next time.

Sighing softly, Victoria went into the kitchen and fixed herself some eggs and turned the kettle on. Her phone vibrated on the counter just as she set her plate down and she went over to answer it. "Hello?"

"Hi, sweetie," purred Jim's soft, Irish voice. Victoria smiled.

"James," she said, her tone lightening at his name. "We never had dinner."

"Ah, yes, that's what I was calling about. Your parents are out of the house?"

"Yeah, they'll be gone all day. Why? Are you planning on dropping by?"

"No, no. I thought we'd be much more comfortable at my place."

"I agree."

"Good, then. I have some things I wanted to show you regarding the web. I'll send a car over to get you."

With that, he hung up and Victoria set her phone down on the counter with a sigh of contentedness. _This_ was what she really wanted, more than anything. More than Jim and the way he touched her and loved her. She wanted this. The mad, fierce and dangerous life working within the criminal network. She wanted excitement and adrenaline, a way to let loose her inner killer.

Victoria ate quickly and ran upstairs to get dressed, dark skinny jeans and a black tank top, thinking it best to be practical since she wasn't sure exactly what it was Jim wanted to show her.

She found John's gun again and tucked it in her trenchcoat as she saw a car pull up in front of the flat, and ran outside to get into the car.

There was another man in the back seat with her; he was blond and tall with army tags around his neck.

"Sebastian Moran?" she asked, figuring that must be who he was.

"Yes," he said, his tone not very inviting for conversation. Victoria nodded slightly and looked out the window. He obviously knew who she was. She glanced back over at him, eyes scanning, detecting like a machine. She was like her father in that sense. They both had a certain cold, clinical look to them as though they were picking out all of your flaws (probably because most of the time, that was precisely what they were doing).

_Ex-soldier. Father._ He must've been raising Alex, Jim certainly wasn't. _Anger_ , but he was hiding it -- or trying to anyway. _Contempt. Jealousy._ So he still loved Jim. "Brilliant," she muttered sarcastically under her breath. Sebastian glanced at her, but didn't say anything, just poorly concealed loathing on his face.

She sighed faintly, but was relieved when the car stopped where it had last night in front of the building where Jim lived. Sebastian didn't follow her in, but instead went into another flat a few floors below. Victoria only got a glance of where he'd gone as he was closing the door, but it looked like that was where he lived. Interesting. Did everyone living here work for Jim?

When she got upstairs, Jim was already waiting for her. He smiled and she took off her coat before pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Alex is making dinner," he said.

"Your son, Alex?"

"Yes, cooking is one of the few things he is good for," said Jim. "Still up for lobster and champagne?"

"God yes."

Jim chuckled softly. "I imagine dinners at Baker Street aren't quite as..expensive or extravagant."

"Not at all," she said, smiling faintly.

Jim took her arm. "Right then. Upstairs for now," he said. "Work to be done." She let him lead her upstairs to his office. It was large, with photos and papers pinned up all over the walls and bits of string connecting them. Apparently, this was the way all geniuses organized their thoughts, because her father did the same thing at Baker Street when he was on a case.

"So..." she said, looking around, trying to take in as much information as she could, her mind scanning for names/faces/locations she was familiar with or that looked important and cataloguing them away in a file if she needed to retrieved them later.

"So," Jim echoed back, smiling faintly as he watched her taking it all in, her computer-like brain saving and storing away any key information she spotted. He frankly couldn't think of another word to describe her right now other than _sexy_. Finally, someone with an intelligence to match, and perhaps even rival his own.

Beautiful.

She had a cold, clinical-ness to her, though that was similar to her father. Like a machine. But Jim was more erratic. Equally intelligent but much more emotional and less organized in his thinking.

Victoria glanced up at him once she'd scanned the entire room. "So. You're like my dad, but for criminals, right? You help people sort out their crimes and get away with murders and robberies, and other things."

"Essentially," said Jim, watching her.

"And what about Sherlock then? He was your..plaything or whatever?"

"Yes," Jim said. "But now I've got you, and you're plenty clever," he said with a charming smile and Victoria smirked, "so I don't need him anymore. He's more of a nuisance, now."

"Because cases of yours that the police usually wouldn't solve, he's now solving."

"And thereby ruining my good reputation for not getting caught."

"So we want him out of the way."

"Yes, but that's boring."

"Well I was figuring you'd come up with a more interesting way of doing it," she said with a devilish smirk.

"Yes. But first, I've got something else for you," he said. "You've got to prove your worth to me, darling," he said, stepping towards her. She leaned back on the desk behind her and looked up at him.

"Aw, I'm a bit hurt. Haven't I already?" she asked, tilting her head and smiling faintly.

"You're all talk. I want to see you do some..fieldwork," he purred.

She smiled as he leaned over her. "Alright, darling. What do you want?"

"I want Scotland Yard. And we're going to start," he said, pointing to a photograph on the desk behind her, "with _him_."


	4. What's a King Without His Queen?

Scotland Yard, from the outside, appeared to be an impenetrable fortress. Britain's finest in crime-solving, and detective work.

In actuality, it was a very well-dressed-up bunch of incompetent morons, and men and women whom Victoria, along with her father, often questioned how they had even gotten into the police force at all, let alone what was supposed to be the best of England's police force.

Lounging in his office, chair, absently skimming through some paperwork was Greg Lestrade, a man, who was at least intelligent enough to realise his incompetence, and bring in outside help (cue: Victoria and her fathers). Victoria was alone when she came upstairs to his office today, dressed in a black mini skirt and long-sleeved lace top with a deep v-neck. Just enough but not too much. She came into the office with a faint smile on her lips and closed the door behind her, which caused him to look up. He was easy, and she knew he would be. He apparently was also awful at hiding when he was aroused.

"Gregory," she said with a soft smile, dropping her voice just a bit deeper than usual

He looked at her for a moment. "Hi," he replied. "Um..Tori. I'm sorry, but I haven't really got any cases for you or your dad right now, I'm just doing -- "

"I'm not here for a case," she said, speaking over him without even attempting to hide her complete and utter disregard for anything he had to say.

Lestrade gave her a wary look as she walked around his desk, coming to stand between him and it. "What are you.." She cut him off with a firm, wet and almost aggressive kiss to his lips and then pulled away. The kiss lasted several moments, at first Lestrade struggled, but then melted into it just as she pulled away.

"Okay," she said, looking him in the eyes as she pulled away. "Here's how this is going to work: you're going to give me complete control over your entire division, passwords to your computer, and allow me to do whatever I please with all the information/evidence involved in cases. If I tell you to drop a case, you will drop it. _Or_ , I can go home right now and tell my fathers that I came in here looking for a case, and you forced yourself on me." 

She rolled up her sleeves to show him bruises on her wrists that she'd had Jim give her a few hours before she came over here. "I even took the liberty of having someone with hands the size of yours give me some bruises, so I can really sell it. You'll lose your job and your reputation, my uncle will most definitely leave you, and maybe if you're lucky, he and my father's won't try to break into your flat and murder you. I'll have total control over all of Homicide unless you'd like to die a painful death. Understand?"

Lestrade simply looked at her, dumbstruck at what she'd just said and wide-eyed from the fact that his boyfriend's seventeen-year-old niece had just _snogged_ him.

Victoria rolled her eyes. "Just say yes," she said with an impatient sigh.

"I -- okay," he stammered.

Victoria smiled faintly. "Good," she said, her voice taking on a melodious tone resembling Moriarty. She walked past him and sat down in front of the computer. "Password," she ordered.

"'mycroft'," he answered, "for everything."

She sighed softly, but typed it in. "Figured," she murmured under her breath. She looked over all the cases, any that she could link to those she'd catalogued from Jim's walls of cases, thankful for her photographic memory and highly efficient system for organising what she had memorized. When satisfied that she'd deleted or modified anything pertaining to a case Jim was working on, stood from the desk, extending her hand out to Lestrade.

"Keys," she ordered.

"I've only got one set," he said, not handing them over.

"Well then, I'll make you a spare and leave it under your doormat so you can get into work tomorrow," she said, hand still extended. She watched with narrow eyes as he reluctantly took his keychain out of his pocket and handed it over. "Thank you."

Pocketing the keys herself, she walked towards the door, turning back one final time. "Oh, and Lestrade," she said, causing him to look up. "Not a word of this gets back to my fathers. Unless you want to deal with trying to prove that these bruises aren't from you."

With that, the young criminal turned and walked out of Scotland Yard, smirking proudly to herself, and typing out a text to her partner in crime.

_Homicide is yours. You're welcome. VWH_

_It's not mine, love, it's ours. What's a king without his queen? JM_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS WORK IS CURRENTLY ON HIATUS.
> 
> I'm very, very sorry to those of you who've been reading, but I just for the life of me, cannot find my muse for this piece, and rather than attempt to just write it anyway (which often yields shitty results), I've decided to put it on hiatus until further notice. I have no idea when that will be, it could be tomorrow (unlikely, but who knows) or it could be six months from now. Lord knows this fandom has survived longer hiatuses, but if you find you cannot cope, you're always welcome to write your own continuation/spin-off, should you feel so inclined, just please link it back to this one if you decide to publish your piece anywhere.


End file.
